Double Vision
by tongue in cheek scribe
Summary: The Peredhil twins own and operate a travelling Renaissance Faire, employing some of their longtime friends! AU…repeat…AU. NON-CANON. Humor. Rated PG13 for language and adult situations. Please read and review!
1. On With the Show

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Disclaimer: I do not own LOTR, or any of its characters. **Legolas:** You just don't give up, do you? **Me:** I don't know the meaning of the words. **Legolas:** Buy a dictionary. **Me:** I see how it isyou're going to give me a hard time again, aren't you? **Legolas:** If you don't quit picking on me, I'm going to give you _something_, alright. **Me:** For your information, this one isn't about you **Legolas**_What_? What do you mean, not about me? I've been in every single one of them! **Me:** Not _this_ one, Lego - well, not very much at any rate. **Legolas:** I _knew_ you couldn't keep me out. **Me:** Sigh. You'd think I'd be used to your ego by now.

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Double Vision

Summery: Second in a possible series of adventures of Elves in modern times. The Peredhil twins own and operate a travelling Renaissance Faire, employing some of their longtime friends! AUAU. NON-CANON. Humor. Rated PG13 for language and adult situations. Please read and review!

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A/N: I received a lot of requests for a sequel to "It's About Time," but thought that the story itself had played out. Still, I thought it might be fun to write a series of stories centering on the same theme - Elves in modern times. If you haven't read "It's About Time," you may want to skim through chapter 3, "Shooting the Breeze," to read my take on Elven history.

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Chapter 1

On with the Show

"On my honor, I vow to avenge you, Milady!" cried the figure in a complete suit of armor, seated upon the sleek white stallion, holding his sword aloft. He was addressing a lovely young woman in a white gauzy gown and golden crown who sat regally on a throne on the platform before him. At that moment, the visor on his helmet chose to slam down with an audible _clank._ The lovely young woman snorted, covering her mouth with her hand. Raising the visor back up with his free hand, he turned to another figure standing on the field next to him.

"'Ro! This damn helmet is going drive me crazy! The visor keeps falling down! What do we need these stupid costumes for, anyway? We never wore helmets with visors!"

"C'mon, 'Danwe've been over this a hundred times. People are just not as impressed by leather armor as they are by metalit's part of having 'good show.'" Elladan replied to his twin, squinting a bit at the glare that shone off his brother's suit of armor. He, himself, was dressed in faded jeans, sneakers, and a tee shirt that read, "_E.L.F._ - _Elves Love Foreplay_."

"It's heavy, it creaks, and I'm sweating like a pig in this thing!"

"Will you stop complaining? _You're_ the one who wanted to be the hero!"

"While we're on the subject, exactly whose idea _was_ it to make me the champion in the jousting tournament, again? Every pimply-faced King Arthur wannabe at the Faire tries to challenge me. I'm getting tired of getting poked with lances, 'Ro."

"I repeat_you_ wanted to be the hero."

"Maybe it's time for _you_ to take a turn getting poked."

"I'm usually the one who does the poking, pal. And I poke very well, so I've been told"

"That is NOT the kind of poking I was referring to, and you know it."

The rest of the cast of the Faire went about their business as usual while the twins argued. They had heard it all too many times beforeit was always the same at each new location. One or the other of the twins would choose to play the "hero knight," and would be happy for all of five seconds. Then the arguing would begin. But, still, the twins were good employers, and most who worked for them considered themselves lucky to be a part of the most popular Renaissance Faire in the country. Not to mention that it was the _only_ Renaissance Faire run by real Elves. That, in and of itself, made it interesting.

The Faire had been running for years, travelling about the country from one end to the other, a caravan of trucks, mobile homes, and vans, currently led by one lemon yellow Hummer with the words "Peredhil Productions" written in Old English Script across the side doors.

"Can't we have Haldir or Legolas do the joust this time?"

"Nothey need to do the archery demonstration and competition. If anybody has reason to complain, it's those two! Do you know how many times over the years they've been shot in the butt by some nearsighted teenager who thinks that he's Robin Hood?"

"How about Glorfindel?"

"He has to do the dragon slaying show, and the wandering minstrel thing. You _know_ that!"

"Gimli?"

"Be serious."

"Fine! Finebut I get to run the "wenching" contest this time!" Elladan said, his visor clanking down once again. "Argh!"

Elladan lifted his visor once again, reining his horse in the direction of the stables. Elrohir smiled, watching his brother ride off while holding his visor in place with one hand.

"I need to remember to tell the smithy to loosen that visor a bit moreit didn't fall _nearly_ as many times as I had hoped" Elrohir thought, chuckling to himself as he walked toward the trailer that served as the Faire's office.

Opening the door to the trailer, he smiled at the three tall blonde Elves and one short, redheaded Dwarf who were seated around the round table near the back of the trailer.

"Hey, 'Rodeal you in a hand?" Glorfindel asked, shuffling the cards in his hands expertly.

"No can do, Fin. I've got to go make sure everything's set for tomorrow's opening." Elrohir replied. "Shouldn't you all beoh, I don't know_practicing_ or something?"

"C'mon, 'Rowe can do that stuff in our sleep, and you know it!" Legolas laughed, anteing up for the next round of poker.

"How'd the 'visor' thing go, 'Ro?" Haldir asked, taking a peek at the cards he was dealt.

"It needs to be loosenedit only fell twice!" Elrohir laughed, peeking at Gimli's hand over his shoulder. He eyed Fin and rolled his eyes, shaking his head at Gimli's hand.

Haldir opened, throwing down three cards. Gimli stayed pat, and the other Elves discarded three cards each. Fin finished dealing, then raised Haldir's bet. The raising went on until Haldir and Legolas had both folded, leaving only Gimli and Glorfindel still in the game.

Gimli smiled, saying, "All in, Fin" He pushed his remaining chips into the center of the table.

Fin peeked up at Elrohir, who was still standing behind Gimli. Elrohir rolled his eyes again, shaking his head. He mouthed, "Bluffing," to Glorfindel over Gimli's head. Taking his cue, Fin called Gimli's bet. Laying his cards on the table, Fin said triumphantly, "Full house, tens over aces. Read 'em and weep, Dwarf!"

"Straight Flush, Balrog-slayer," Gimli laughed, showing his cards and drawing the large pile of chips in toward himself.

Elrohir laughed out loud at the expression on Glorfindel's face, then quickly ran out of the trailer before Fin could get his hands around his throat. Legolas, Haldir, and Gimli's laughter and Glorfindel's bellow of anger followed him out.


	2. Welcome to the Strange

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Disclaimer: I do not own LOTR, or any of its characters. **Gimli: **Just what was that crack supposed to mean? **Me:** What crack, Master Dwarf? **Gimli:** Ye _know_ what crackthe one when Elladan suggests I play the hero, and Elrohir tell him to 'be serious.' _That_ crack **Legolas:** What do you _think_ it meant, Gimli? You're too short to be the hero. **Gimli:** I'll thank ye to stay out of this, Elf. **Legolas:** Hey! Don't get pissy with _me__she_ wrote it! Notice, in all the stories you've been in, she's _never_ dropped your pants **Me:** Is _that_ what this is all about? _Fine_. There - it's done. **Legolas** (st_aring openmouthed at pant-less Gimli_) ARGH! My eyes! My eyes!

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Chapter 2

Welcome to the Strange

The Faire had been set up on several acres of cleared land just west of the small town of Poplar Hills. A high wooden fence encircled the entire Faire with two huge doors in the center wall. The ticket booths, gaily painted and sporting silken streamers were set, two and two, on either side of the doors. Directly across from the Faire were several more acres of empty land, which had been filling up with vehicles since the night before, and Elrohir harbored no doubt that the lots would be filled before the first guest entered the Faire this morning.

Stopping at the main gate, he checked again with the four attendants, dressed in their Renaissance finery, to make sure they were ready to begin selling tickets. The gates were due to open at nine o'clock sharp, and 'Ro hated delays. Assuring himself that they were ready, he then checked with the entertainers who waited just behind the main gates. Stilt-walkers, jugglers, and peasants waited anxiously for his signal to go out to entertain the crowd that was gathering in front of the ticket booths until the official beginning of the Faire.

Every new opening was run the same way. Entertainers, in character, would work the crowd, getting everyone psyched up while they waited to buy their tickets. At roughly 8:45, trumpets would sound, and a procession of five knights in full armor, carrying flags bearing their 'family crests', and the "King" of the Faire would round the far corner of the fence, solemnly approaching the cheering crowd. The "King" - in this case, a chubby, smiling, bewhiskered man named Bob - would make a brief welcoming speech from horseback, officially opening the Faire.

Elrohir nodded at the entertainers, and the doors were opened a crack for them to slip out into the crowd. Elrohir could hear the cheers rise as the entertainers began to circulate. Smiling to himself, he walked toward the backstage dressing areas to suit up for the procession.

Spotting Glorfindel rounding the corner backstage, Elrohir darted into the shadows of one of the many ale booths set up around the Faire. He knew Fin well, and wouldn't have been surprised if the Balrog-slayer didn't take a whack at him for the stunt he had pulled the night before at the poker game. "I'll need to keep my eyes peeled for a whileFin has a very long memory," Elrohir thought, with a half smile. He waited until the coast was clear before continuing on to the dressing area.

Glorfindel was still in a mood, but not the kind Elrohir had suspected. Actually, Fin was feeling quite jolly that morning, having spent a good part of the night plotting his revenge against Elrohir, and the better part of an hour convincing the gray haired gentleman who cared for the suits of armor to help him. A box of fine cigars and a bottle of aged Scotch had sealed the deal. Fin's step was light, as he went on his way, softly whistling the theme song from "The Full Monte."

At exactly 8:30, the riders lined up along the far right hand side of the fence. King Bob was dressed in deep burgundy robes, and a faux-ermine trimmed, red velvet cape, astride a massive gray mount. The Elves, all dressed in full suits of shiny armor, bearing their flags, lined up behind him. Elladan took the lead on his white stallion, while Glorfindel brought up the rear on a beautiful chestnut mare, riding directly behind Elrohir on his gray dappled Appaloosa.

Fin had his visor down, to hide the gigantic grin that graced his handsome features. "This is going to be good," he chuckled, as they cantered out around the edge of the fence and down the path cleared through the crowd. The cheers of the excited crowd was deafening, but the helmet helped muffle the roar.

King Bob raised his hand to silence the crowd. After a moment or two, the noise subsided, and in a loud deep voice, he welcomed "One and All to the MidSummer Festival" of his kingdom. The gates were opened and he led the riders through the doors, opening the way for the crowd to enter.

Just before they passed under the arch that led into the field, Glorfindel lowered his flag and roughly tapped Elrohir on the right shoulder, in the exact manner his friend, the armor caretaker, had instructed.

"OUCH!" Elrohir cried out involuntarily when the flagstaff struck his shoulder. Turning slightly in his saddle, he started yell at Glorfindel, who, trotting past him, gave him a mock salute, but froze as one piece after another of his armor began to fall off, clattering on the ground around his nervously prancing horse's hooves.

Glorfindel's roar of laughter was quickly swallowed by the crowd's, who thought it was all part of the show. Laughing and pointing, they roared at Elrohir, who now sat upon his horse wearing nothing but his helmet and a pair of very brief, black bikini underwear. Spurring his horse into a gallop, he raced into the Faire and backstage, whistles and catcalls trailing him all the way.

Reaching the relative privacy of the backstage area, he leapt down from his horse, ripped off his helmet and sent it crashing down into the dirt at his feet.

"FIN!" Elrohir bellowed, ignoring the several open-mouthed employees and a very amused Gimli standing around him, as well as the fact that he was in nothing but his favorite skimpy black bikini underwear. "When I get my hands on you I am going to separate that dimwitted melon you call a head from your shoulders!"

"Laddie"

"Not now, Gimli!"

"But Laddie"

"NOT NOW GIMLI!"

"All right, Laddiebut I thought ye'd want to know that ye have a rather large hole in the back o' those panties."

Elrohir froze, then whipped a hand around to feel not one, but several large openings over his rear. "ArghElladan warned me to get rid of these" he thought, blushing from his ankles to his hairline. He slapped his hands over his butt, and, trying to keep his back to the wall, sidestepped his way to the dressing area.

Chuckling to himself, Gimli watched Elrohir's undignified retreat. "Didn't anyone ever tell ye to wear nice underwear when you go out? This would be why!" he called after the Elf, before turning and heading to his post on the Faire grounds, still laughing.


	3. They Call Me MR Dwarf!

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Disclaimer: I do not own LOTR, or any of its characters. **Legolas:** Well, I'll give you thisyou still insist on including that stupid, juvenile pants-dropping bit in your stories, but at least you're getting inventive about it. **Me:** You're just jealous because it wasn't your pants, erarmor I dropped. **Legolas:** RiiiggghhtI'm jealous because you didn't humiliate me by leaving me standing in underwear that was more holes than fabric. Do I look like a masochist to you? **Me:** Well, now that you mention it

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A/N: Once again, thanks to everyone who read and reviewed! You guys are the absolute best!

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Chapter 3

They call me MR. Dwarf!

Gimli was still chuckling as he strolled over to the area of the field designated for the axe throwing demonstration. A fairly large crowd had gathered, waiting for the demonstration to begin. Gimli noticed Legolas sitting on a haystack near the rack that held Gimli's axes.

"What are ye doing here, Elf? I thought ye had an archery competition to run," he remarked, looking over the selection of axes, and choosing a large, black one with an ornately carved handle. Lifting it from the rack, he swung it over his head a few times, getting a feel for the heft.

"Not for another hour, Gimli. I was bored, so I thought I'd come and see what you were up to."

"I'm about to show these people what a Master can do with his axe!" Gimli laughed, pointing over his shoulder at the crowd gathered behind them.

Legolas smiled, and settled back to watch the demonstration.

Turning to the audience, Gimli hefted his axe in the air. "Ladies and Gentlemenbehold the mighty Axe of Gimli, son of Gloin!"

The audience applauded half-heartedly, not quite sure what to make of the little man with the long red hair and braided beard, who held an axe, nearly as big as himself, over his head.

"Hey, looka midget!" yelled one crater faced teenager, elbowing his friends.

"Nahhe ain't a midgethe's an elf! Hey, Elf - where's Santa?" laughed one of his buddies.

Legolas raised an eyebrow and whistled softly at the remark. They'd heard all types of taunts over the years, mostly from drunks and teenagers trying to look good in front of their friends, but the "Elf" jibes were always the ones that would spur Gimli into a rage. Elf-friend or not, NEVER call a Dwarf an Elf.

"WHAT DID YE CALL ME?" Gimli bellowed, advancing toward the youth. People in the crowd smiled, thinking it was part of the demonstration. The teenagers laughed, egging on the one who had insulted Gimli.

"An Elf! You are, ain't ya? You're short, bowlegged, and ugly as sin - what else could you be? Is that axe one of the toys you're making for Santa this year? Or are you one of those shoe-making elves? I need a new pair of boots - maybe I can have yours! You can always make a new pair!" the teenager guffawed, as his friends slapped him on the back, laughing.

'You don't want his boots, Joe - they wouldn't even fit your little sister! Have him make you a new pair" snickered one of Joe's friends.

"Yeahhere Elf - measure me for a new pair of boots!' Joe called, sticking his foot out toward the advancing Dwarf.

One moment Joe was standing on one foot, holding the other out toward Gimli, and the next he was sailing through the air to land hard on his rump in the center of the clearing.

Before he could take a breath axes began to rain down all around him.

Gimli twirled around in circle, letting one axe fly and picking up another before it had scarcely left his hand. Within moments Joe was completely encircled by axes embedded by their blades in the ground. The circle was so close that it he moved an inch he would likely be sliced open.

Hefting yet another axe, Gimli advanced on the shocked teen. Grinning evilly at the shaking youngster, Gimli growled, "I am a DwarfNOT an Elf. _That_ is an Elf," he instructed, pointing to where Legolas sat, chuckling softly to himself. "Do I look like _him_ to you? If ye ever insult me like that again, I'll have yer balls for breakfast!" He threw the final axe, which landed dead center right between the young man's legs, dangerously close to the aforementioned testicles.

"II'm sorry," Joe squeaked, his face pasty and his eyes still glued to the last axe in the ground before him.

Gimli huffed, and jerked a couple of the axes out of the ground, so that Joe could get up safely. Standing on shaky legs, Joe backed away from Gimli and made a beeline toward the exit of the Faire.

The crowd cheered, still thinking it was all part of the demonstration. Gimli took a little bow, collected his axes, and deposited them neatly in the rack, before walking back to Legolas.

"You really need to stop doing that, Gimli. You can't just fling people around and chuck axes at them when they say something you don't like. This isn't Moria, you know - 'Ro and 'Dan had a terrible time with the last one you 'taught a lesson' tothat one threatened to sue us!" Legolas admonished. "It cost them a fortune to settle with the parents of that particular teen."

"Bah! No court in the land would find me guilty after an insult like that, Laddie!" Gimli grumbled, sitting down on the haystack next to his friend. "Imagine, calling a Dwarf an Elf! What are today's children coming to, I ask yeno respect fer their elders!"

Legolas smiled, patted his friend on the shoulder, and stood up. "I'd best be goingI've an archery competition to run shortly, and if I'm not there Haldir will spend the entire time showing off to the women in the audience. I swear, that Elf gets to be more of a horndog every year"

"I know, Laddieand he's not nearly as discriminating as he used to beif it's in a skirt, Haldir will chase it. Remember last year when he chased that homely woman only to find out at the last possible moment that _she_ was actually a _he_? Ye'd think he'd know what a kilt was by now" Gimli laughed, wiping tears of mirth from his eyes.

Legolas laughed, and bidding his friend goodbye, began to walk toward the clearing set aside for the archery competition.

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	4. I Shot an Arrow in the Air

**Disclaimer:** I do not own LOTR, or any of its characters. **Gimli:** Damn straight! That'll teach anybody to make fun of the son of Gloin! **Me:** Gimli...calm down. **Gimli:** Bring 'em on! I'll take 'em out with one hand tied behind me back! **Me:** Gimli...you're spitting...please calm down. **Legolas:** He can't help it...he _never_ gets his own chapter. **Gimli: **I'm king o' the world, ma...king o' the world!

**Chapter 4**

I Shot an Arrow in the Air... 

Legolas reached the archery field at the same time that Haldir was arriving. Together they walked to the back of the field and began setting up the targets that would be used in the competition.

"Do you think 'Ro and 'Dan will ever invest in those moving targets we talked about?" Haldir asked Legolas, as they rolled another large bullseye onto the field.

"Dunno. I think they _like_ seeing us bore ourselves day after day."

"I have an idea I've been kind of playing with, if you're interested..."

Legolas stopped rolling the target, and leaned his elbow on the top of it, looking at Haldir. "Well...what's the idea? I'm listening."

"You know that old story about Newton and the apple right?" Haldir began, a slow grin spreading across his face.

Legolas cocked an eyebrow at his friend. "You like to live dangerously, don't you...do you have any idea what the insurance people will do to us if we miss?"

"Legolas...we haven't missed a shot in three thousand years. We won't miss."

Thinking it over, Legolas had to admit the idea was very tempting. Shooting arrows at those stationary bullseyes might thrill the tourists, but he and Haldir could literally make those shots in their sleep. Coming to a decision, he looked at Haldir and grinned. "OK! Let's do it! Who do we pick, and how do you want to set up the shot?"

"I was thinking of that beefy guy near the far railing...he looks like sturdy fellow. And maybe that one over on the other side - the one with the Mohawk. We'd need to pick people who won't run away when we point the arrows at them."

"I just thought of something that might be really funny," Legolas laughed, his eyes twinkling merrily. He explained his idea to Haldir who also began to chuckle. "Of course, one of us will have to throw a shot to lose."

"Deal!" Haldir said, "I'll lose the shot this time...you can do it tomorrow!" They continued to roll the target onto the field. Legolas called over a worker, and sent him in search of the few additional items they would require.

The crowd was thick around the archery field as Legolas and Haldir walked to the middle of it. Each Elf was dressed in the traditional warrior jerkin and leggings, and each carried a bow and quiver of arrows strapped to his back. Raising their hands, they waved at the crowd.

"Ladies and Lords! Welcome to the Archery Field. I am Legolas, and this is Haldir." Both Elves executed formal bows to the crowd, eliciting applause, and squeals of delight from the females in the crowd.

"God! Those wigs are so sexy!" One young girl of about eighteen giggled to another, her eyes glued to Legolas' long blond locks.

"I heard that they aren't wigs...that's their real hair!" The other girl giggled back. Both of them squealed shrilly.

Legolas forced himself from rolling his eyes, as his Elven ears picked up the conversation. What is it about long hair that drives these females to distraction? He never gave it a second thought, himself.   
  
"Ladies and Lords...we seek volunteers from you to participate in this event. Have we any takers?" Haldir called, knowing that dozens of hands would shoot up, from the very young to the very old, but he and Legolas had already picked their choices. Pointing to both the beefy guy and the one with the Mohawk, Haldir invited them onto the field.

"One more volunteer is necessary...," Legolas shouted, quickly scanning the crowd. "I probably shouldn't do this..." he thought, but picked the young girl who had been infatuated with his hair. He smiled at her, and she looked at him with lovesick eyes. Giggling like mad and flushing bright pink, the girl took his offered hand and stepped onto the field, while her friend simultaneously squealed with delight, and pouted with envy.

"We have our brave volunteers!" Haldir announced, to the applause of the audience. He lined the three of them up in a row, with the girl on the end, closest to Legolas. "Now," he said loudly, but addressing the volunteers, "This is a test of skill between Legolas and myself. We will attempt to hit moving targets, and the first one who misses, loses! So...start running!"

Legolas had drawn and fitted an arrow and was aiming at the beefy guy, who looked for a moment like he might wet his pants.

"Just kidding...just kidding," Haldir laughed, as the crowd behind him roared. "Actually, you two brave gentlemen will be tossing the targets into the air for us."

The girl looked a bit confused, and finally said quietly, "What do I do?"

"What do you do?" asked Haldir, walking up to the girl, and tilting her chin up to look at him with one finger, "Why, Milady..._you_ are the prize!" Again the crowd roared as the girl bit her lip and blushed furiously, gazing up at Haldir's handsome face.

Haldir carried two large wicker baskets over to where Mohawk Guy stood, placing one of them down on the ground beside him. He instructed Beefy Guy to walk to the opposite side of the field, and placed the other basket next to him.

Fitting an arrow into his bow, he and Legolas took their places - Haldir standing next to Mohawk Guy, and Legolas next to Beefy Guy. Legolas had already moved the girl to the far back of the field, out of harm's way.

Nodding his head at Mohawk Guy, Haldir gave the signal for the competition to begin. Mohawk Guy and Beefy Guy each picked up an apple from their basket and tossed it high into the air.

Thwunk. Thwunk. Two arrows pierced the apples and fell to the ground. The audience applauded like crazy.

"Faster!" yelled Legolas, and the two men began lobbing apples into the air one after the other, and, one after the other, Legolas and Haldir brought them down.

"Two at a time!" Haldir yelled, and the two men tossed two apples into the air simultaneously. Four arrows pierced the fruit, and the crowd went wild.

"Three at a time!" Legolas shouted. Haldir knew this was the cue for him to miss a shot, and only brought down two of his apples, while Legolas brought down all three. The crowd cheered.

Legolas and Haldir shook hands, and then Legolas turned to the crowd and bowed. He then held his bow aloft, to the renewed cheers of the crowd. Walking over to the girl, who stood biting her lip, evidently a nervous wreck, he smiled at her, swept her into his arms, and planted a big, fat, juicy kiss right on her lips.

For a moment he thought she might faint, but instead, she grabbed his head and kissed him back. Grabbing her wrists, he smiled, thinking to himself that next time he had better move a little faster after the kiss, led her back to the others.

"A big round of applause for our wonderful volunteers!" Haldir called, clapping his hands. Legolas joined him in applauding the girl, Mohawk Guy and Beefy Guy, as they made their way off the field.

"This concludes the archery competition! Lords and Ladies...enjoy the rest of your day here at the Faire!" Haldir and Legolas waved at the crowd before walking off of the field.

"Legolas...your lip is bleeding," Haldir said, frowning at the Elf walking beside him.

"I know...I know. Next time, remind me to pick somebody without braces."


	5. The Balrog, er, Dragon Slayer

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Disclaimer: I do not own LOTR, or any of its characters. **Haldir:** That chapter was really lame. **Me:** Says who? **Haldir:** Says _me_. There is _no_ way I would _ever_ throw a shot. _Never_. **Legolas:** You wouldn't need to throw a shotyou miss accidentally enough. **Haldir:** I would _not_ miss. I _never_ miss a shot. **Legolas:** Yes, you do. You miss all the time, you just won't admit it. **Haldir:** Name one time when I've missed a shot. **Legolas:** Helm's Deep. **Haldir:** That was in the movie, not the book, and I was outnumbered. **Legolas:** Doesn't matter - you still missed. **Haldir:** Dammit.

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Chapter 5

The Balrog, erDragon Slayer

"Why do I continue to allow them to take advantage of me in this manner?" Glorfindel asked the short, rather stubby man who was helping him into his armor. "I ask youmy heroism was unparalleled. I fought and slayed a Balrog - a _BALROG_, mind you, not some overgrown iguana - and what do I get? A twenty-minute charade with two men in a dragon suit. Where is my glory? Where is my dignity? Where is my appreciation? Where is my pack of Juicyfruit gum? My mouth tastes like warg dung."

The odd little man handed Glorfindel the bright yellow pack of chewing gum, then returned to strapping the tall Elf into his breastplate.

Clanking discordantly, Glorfindel walked, rather stiffly, to the backstage entrance to the arena where he would shortly "fight" the "dragon." This week the dragon was being played by two young men named Marvin and Sid. Normally, Marvin and Sid were baggers at the local Win Dixie Supermarket, and probably couldn't count to twenty without removing their shoes. Currently, they were fighting over who would play the dragon's rear end.

"Will you _please_ just get in the costume? Honestly, If I _must_ be forced to continue this sham, the least that those two idiots who own this flea bitten Faire could do is hire someone with half a brain," Fin muttered, edging past the two fighting halves of the dragon. He checked himself to make sure his armor was still on, and that his sword was hanging at his hip, and fluffed his hair out a bit, as the trumpets blared in the arena, his cue to enter stage right.

He strode forcefully to the center of the arena, raised his right arm to salute the crowd, and began his spiel.

"I am Glorfindel, the dragon-slayer! Word has reached me that a deadly creature has plagued your fair hamlet and that no man has lived to see it destroyed! Speak townsfolkshall I slay the beast? Yay or Nay?"

"Yay!" The crowd roared, except for one loud, slurred "Nay" that came from a balding, middle aged man dressed in a "Renaissance Rocks" tee shirt, which fell short of covering his rather impressive beer belly.

Glorfindel rolled his eyes and ignored the dissenter, instead pacing the arena, dramatically holding his hand to shield his eyes as he 'scouted' for the dragon.

The crowd roared as dragon thundered into the arena. Well, perhaps _thundered_ is too strong a wordit was really more like _scampered_. Marvin/Sid The Dragon was dark green, with huge blue eyes framed by long curling eyelashes and a shock of hot pink fuzzy hair on the top of its head between its ears. Marvin/Sid began to rock back and forth, nearly dancing on the sand of the arena as it crept up behind Glorfindel.

Glorfindel stood in the arena with his hand still shielding his eyes, his back to the waltzing monster, apparently unaware of the, erimpending danger. The children in the crowd began to shout at him, trying to get him to notice the tiptoeing dragon. Fin turned to face the audience, with Marvin/Sid standing directly behind him.

"What? There be dragons, you say? Where?" Fin asked loudly, turning to his right. When Fin turned to the right, Marvin/Sid leaned to the left, keeping out of his line of sight.

"I see no dragon! Where be it?" Fin asked again, this time turning to the left, as Marvin/Sid leaned to the right.

"Behind you! Behind you!" the children screamed, jumping up and down and pointing. Fin turned in a complete circle, Marvin/Sid carefully turning with him, keeping behind him.

"Perhaps you have all been out in the sun too longthere is no dragon here!" Glorfindel said, spreading his arms out wide and looking confused.

A loud, bellowing roar came up over the loudspeakers, and Fin jumped in the air about three feet off of the ground. Marvin/Sid began to shake with laughter, bobbing the front half of the suit up and down. The crowd laughed right along, as Fin spun to face his stalker.

"DRAGON!" Fin screamed, drawing his sword from the scabbard at his hip and holding it aloft. "Never fear, good townspeople! I will slay the beast!" He advanced on Marvin/Sid, as the costumed duo began to slowly back up. Each time Fin would stab the sword forward, the dragon would feint the other way, avoiding the blow. Eventually, Fin backed Marvin/Sid up to the back wall of the arena, and prepared to dramatically deal him a deathblow.

Suddenly, from the audience, came a shrill scream, as a lovely young woman dressed in a gauzy, pale blue gown stepped forward through the crowd.

Entering the arena, she called to Glorfindel, "Stop! What are you doing to my dragon?"

"Slaying the beast!"

"NO! How could you be so horrible? My dragon has harmed no one! You should be ashamed of yourself, picking on a poor, defenseless dragon!" She wagged her finger in Glorfindel's face, and the dragon leaned its head on her shoulder, pretending to cry.

"Butit is a dragon! It has been terrorizing the townit must be slain!" Glorfindel stammered, backing up from the irate young woman. Pointing at the audience, he protested, "THEY told me to slay it!"

Boos and hisses met him, as he turned to stare openmouthed at the audience.

Marvin/Sid whispered something into the maiden's ear, and she giggled loudly, her hand over her mouth. Stepping up to Glorfindel, she said, "Sir Knight, my dragon tells me that you did, indeed, think he was a threat to my village, and so in honor of your bravery, I will grant to my favor." Standing on her tiptoes, she placed a kiss on Fin's cheek.

A broad smile lit Glorfindel's handsome features, as he sheathed sword, and took the young woman in his arms. Bending her backwards away from the line of sight of the audience, he pretended to kiss her passionately, to the screaming approval of the crowd. Together, Marvin/Sid following closely behind, they waved at the audience, and walked backstage, arm in arm.

The audience applauded, slowly disbursing to seek other entertainment, as Fin and the girl reached the backstage area. Immediately, the girl snatched her arm away from Glorfindel, and gave him a push in the opposite direction.

"You missed your last line!" Fin said, smirking at the young woman.

"That was supposed to be a stage kiss, Fin! I couldn't very well get my line out with your tongue down my throat!" she yelled, poking him with a finger, and walking off in a huff.

Still smiling, Fin thought to himself that if the twins insisted that he keep performing this idiotic bit day after day, he was going to do whatever it took to make it more enjoyable for himself. Chuckling, he patted Marvin/Sid on the shoulder as he made his way back to the dressing area.


	6. Joust in Case

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Disclaimer: I do not own LOTR, or any of its characters. **Legolas: **HmmI wouldn't have done that, if I were you. **Me:** Done what? **Legolas:** Pick on Glorfindel. **Me:** Why not? **Legolas: **She who picks on the Golden One is likely to have her head split open like an overripe melon. **Me:** I am not afraid of Fin. **Legolas:** When he finds out what you did, he's going to go all _Gallagher_ on your butt. **Me:** Hey, _you're_ the muse, here. You get to take half the blame **Glorfindel:** When _who_ finds out what _who_ did? **Legolas and Me:** Nothingnothing.

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A/N: Thanks again to everyone who read and reviewed!

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Chapter 6

Joust in Case

Elladan was once again dressed in his complete suit of armor, including the visor that mysteriously kept snapping shut every time he raised it.

"I _know_ I told the smithy to fix this visorit's going to drive me nuts during the joust!" he complained to his twin, who was sprawled over the easy chair in a corner of the dressing room.

"Good help is hard to find, brother. Besides, you should probably keep it down during the joust anyway. No sense in losing an eye."

"Like any of the walking hormones you pick for the joust could actually aim!" Elladan laughed. "I like to keep it up so the ladies can see my pretty face."

"They will be too busy looking at _my_ pretty face," Elrohir replied, laughing along with his twin. Mirror images of each other, the joke was nearly as old as they were. "And I wouldn't be so cocky, 'Danlast month that tall, skinny kid nearly knocked you off of your horse."

"He didn't even come close! He just rocked me a bit. You are too fond of exaggeration, 'Ro."

"I thought I was going to have to peel you up from the pavement, 'Dan. He was pretty sharp with the lance."

"No way! I thoroughly trounced him."

"Nobody uses the word 'trounced' anymore, 'Dan."

"Pummeled?"

"No."

"Thrashed!"

"No!"

"What do you suggest, then?"

"How about 'beat the shit out of?"

"You have such a way with words, 'Ro."

"Thank you."

Elladan rolled his eyes at his brother, as the visor of his helmet once again slammed shut. Elrohir snorted, enjoying his brother's discomfort immensely - it was worth paying the smithy overtime to 'fix' 'Dan's helmet.

Elrohir glanced at his watch - it was later than he had thought. Jumping from the chair to get himself changed, he quickly stripped, then donned the robes of the Advisor to the King, which he would be portraying during the joust.

"See you in a few, bro," he said to Elladan, who was still struggling to keep the visor up on his helmet, cursing in both English and Elvish. Elrohir laughed softly, swiftly leaving the dressing room, heading for the arena where the joust would take place.

A large crowd had gathered at the arena - it was standing room only. The joust was one of the most popular events of the Faire, attended by young and old alike. Every Elf had a part to play in the joust, from Elrohir the Advisor and Elladan the Knight, to Glorfindel, the Wizard, Haldir, the Cleric, and Legolas, the Page. Elrohir always chuckled at the thought of Legolas as the Page. Considering Legolas' royal lineage, it _was_ pretty ironic.

This was going to be a great joust. Elrohir had had enough of his brother's bellyaching about being the Knight, and had a bit of surprise up his sleeve for his twin.

The young man chosen for the event today was actually a Medieval Studies major, who worked part time in a themed restaurant as a Knight, and jousted on daily basis. Elladan was going to get his Elven ass handed to him on a platter.

Dressed in black armor, the young man looked at home on his horse, carrying his lance loosely balanced across the saddle in front of him. Stopping next to the Black Knight, Elrohir whispered a few words of final instructions. The Black Knight nodded his understanding, and Legolas, as the Page, took hold of the reins to lead the horse into the arena. His Elven ears had, of course, overheard Elrohir's whispered instructions to the Black Knight, and he could barely suppress a grin from spreading across his face. He wished, more than anything, that he had a camera with him, because this was going to be good.

Elrohir jogged up the stairs to the 'Royal Box' that was situated halfway down the field, in the right hand side bleachers. Waving to the crowd, he took his seat next to King Bob, and his lovely 'daughter' Princess Something-or-other. 'Ro could never keep the girls' names straight. This one was pretty, in an angular sort of way. He had slept with her of course - he had slept with virtually every woman in his employ, except for Mildred the cook. Mildred outweighed him by at least seventy-five pounds, and was as ornery as a warg. She was one of the few women Elrohir actually respected, mostly because he felt certain that she could squash him like a bug if she chose.

Princess Something-or-other turned and shot him a look that would have blistered paint. Swallowing hard, 'Ro suddenly remembered her nameSusan. Losin' Susan. Elladan had had quite a lot of fun at Elrohir's expense because of that one. 'Ro had made the mistake of seducing Susan, who evidently, had an obsessive/compulsive personality, because she had shadowed him for a full two weeks afterward. Even going so far as to follow him into the men's room, and lurk outside his trailer's bedroom window at night, she had been harder to get rid of than a wine stain on white carpeting. The others had taken to calling her "Losin' Susan," because that was what took up most of Elrohir's time during those two weeks - trying to lose Susan. Finally taking the hint that he was no longer interested, she used every opportunity to rake him over with looks of death.

Sighing, he noticed Haldir and Glorfindel smirking at him from their places a few rows below him. Elrohir made a face at them, and turned his attention to King Bob, who was getting ready to open the joust.

Standing up, King Bob waved cheerfully to the crowd. "Welcome, Ladies and Lords to the Joust! Our Champion will attempt to hold his title from the challenge of the Black Knight! The winner of this Joust wins that hand of my fair daughter!"

Losin' Susan waved prettily from her seat, looking from one side of the crowd to other until her gaze fell on Elrohir. Suddenly her princess-y wave turned into a one-finger salute. Elrohir cringed in his seat.

King Bob, oblivious as usual, continued, "Ladies and Lords, I give you the White Knight!"

At this cue, Elladan, now having given up on keeping his visor up at all, rode his white horse onto the field, one hand up in the air, waving at the crowd. He reined his horse to a halt in front of the Royal Box, and saluted the King.

After the crowd's cheering had subdued, King Bob said, "Lords and Ladies, our challengerchosen from all applicants at the Faire todayI give you the Black Knight!"

The challenger rode his magnificent black steed into the arena, sitting tall in his saddle. Reaching the Royal Box, he raised his lance in salute to King Bob.

Elladan manually raised and held his visor up, looking his challenger up and down. Something about the way the guy had ridden into the arena, and was comfortable holding his lance, seemed really odd to 'Dan. Usually, the challengers either needed both hands to hold the lance aloft, or dropped it all together. He remembered many instances when the challengers rode out onto the field and promptly fell off their horses. This guy actually seemed to know what he was doing. 'Dan began to feel a tad bit nervous. Looking over at his brother, whose face was composed in the picture of innocence, 'Dan knew at once at that he _was_ in trouble. Big trouble.

King Bob interrupted his train of thought by explaining the rules of the joust to the crowd. The rules were simple. Each knight would gallop his horse toward the other from opposite sides of the field in an effort to push the other from their mount with their lances. Should a participant fall from their horse, the joust was over and the still-seated knight won. Should a lance break, the combatant with the intact lance would win. Should, by some miracle, both combatants fall from their steeds, they would switch to swordplay. The first telling blow would win the joust.

Both the White Knight and the Black Knight saluted King Bob once more, and trotted their horses to opposite sides of the field, and waited for the King to give the signal to begin.

King Bob waited, letting the suspense build. Well, at least that was the pretense actually he was letting the crowd buy more cold drinks and popcorn before allowing the joust to begin.

"Let the joust begin!" he shouted, a little red in the face as he plopped back down in his throne. King Bob was rather portly and round, and the afternoon sun was hot.

With a shout, both Knights spurred their horses into a full gallop towards each other, their lowered lances aimed directly at each other's hearts.

With a crash, they collided, the Black Knight falling backwards off of his horse. Elladan smiled underneath his visor, until he realized that he, too, was falling into space. Landing with a hard thud, he sat in the dirt, stunned that someone had succeeded in de-seating him.

The Black Knight, having taken many falls during his performances in the restaurant, barely hit the ground before he was up and running for the sword that his page, Legolas, held out for him.

'Dan watched the clanking Black Knight grab the sword from Legolas, and realized that his own page, Morty, was beckoning him wildly from the sidelines, waving his own sword in the air. Scrambling to his feet, 'Dan ran, rather clumsily in his armor, to take the sword from Morty.

Turning to face the onslaught of the Black Knight, Elladan brought his sword up just in time to block the downstroke of his opponent.

"Where did you learn to joust?" The Black Knight asked Elladan as they continued to thrust and parry.

"Why?"

"Because you suck at it," The Black Knight replied.

"You fell off too!" 'Dan cried, thrusting his sword belly height at his challenger, only to have his blade knocked away.

"I had an agreement with your brotherI took a dive," laughed the Black Knight, once again parrying Elladan's move.

"I should have known! I knew when you rode out that you must have had some experience" 'Dan said, suddenly furious with his brother. "Where did you learn swordplay?" he asked his combatant.

"Why?"

"Because you suck at it!" "Dan replied, spinning on his heel in a blur, cracking his sword against the Black Knight's shoulder plate. The Knight dropped his sword and grabbed at his shoulder. He wasn't really hurt, but it must have smarted prettily.

"I may not joust very well, but I do know a thing or too about swordplay," 'Dan laughed, ripping off his helmet and waving to the crowd. He strode over to the Royal Box, saluted and bowed to King Bob, flicked off his brother, and held his hand out for Losin' Susan to join him on the field.

The crowd cheered as King Bob declared the White Knight to be victorious, and Elladan and Losin' Susan walked off of the field together.

Sitting back in his seat, Elrohir watched his twin's retreat with raised eyebrows. "That was a really good showI didn't think he had it in him anymore. Maybe we should do every joust like this from now on."

As he stood and made his way out of the arena, Elrohir was suddenly struck with another thought'Dan was going to be furious, and would most likely be planning his revenge at that very moment.

Sighing, Elrohir could only hope that 'Dan's revenge wouldn't be too painful.

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	7. Jest in Time

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Disclaimer: I do not own LOTR, or any of its characters. **Elladan:** You know, I'm beginning to think that Legolas may very well have been right about you **Me:** Why, whatever do you mean, 'Dan? **Elladan:** I mean that you seem to have no regard for an Elf's self-respect. **Me:** Sorry, 'Danbut I really can't pick on Legolas ALL of the time - people would get bored **Elladan:** Sopick on 'Ro for a while. **Me:** I plan on it. **Elrohir:** Huh? What? 'Danwhat have you done? **Legolas:** 'Ro! Run! Run and don't look backsave yourself! **Me:** Too late

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A/N: Thank you all for your reviews! Have I told you all that I really hate October? I used to love Halloween, but now I'm so busy working all the time that I'm not able to enjoy it anymore. Sniff. Tearbut, Happy Halloween everyone (just a tad early).

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Chapter 7

Jest in Time

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Elrohir was in the dressing room, struggling to pull on a pair of multicolored striped leggings. Wiggling, bending, and jumping around the room, he pulled hard, trying to get them to stretch up over his butt. He finally succeeded, panting from his efforts. "I don't remember them being so difficult to put on the last time" he thought, reaching for the equally loud jerkin that matched the leggings. The jerkin had many tiny jingle bells sewn here and there on it, and they tinkled madly as he pulled the multicolored shirt over his head. Tugging it down, he realized that it only covered him to just past the waist.

Standing in front of the full-length mirror in the dressing room, he gaped at his reflection, frowning. "I can't go out like this!" he said aloud, hands on his hips.

"Like what?" Gimli said, coming into the dressing room in time to hear Elrohir's remark.

'Like _this_!" Elrohir yelled, spinning around to face the Dwarf. Being at just the right height, Gimli immediately saw the problem Elrohir was having. The jester's leggings were so tight that his, erjesterhood was prominently outlined through the thin fabric of the leggings. His jerkin was too short to cover the problem, no matter how hard 'Ro tugged at the hem.

"How am I supposed to go out in public dressed like this? It's obscene!" Elrohir continued to rant, now pacing the room in irritation. "But who else can do it? The costume would fit Elladan and Legolas the same way it fits me, and Haldir and Glorfindel are even larger than we are!"

Gimli raised an eyebrow at that last comment. "They are? They'll be glad to hear that"

Frowning at Gimli, Elrohir hissed, "I meant that they were _taller_ than us, Dwarf."

"Oh, suresure, ye did, laddie," Gimli chuckled. "But if ye go outside like that, yer likely to frighten small children"

"What am I supposed to do? We have to have the jester appear before the wenching contestit's traditional! How did this costume suddenly get so small_Elladan_! It _had_ to be Elladan. This is his way of getting back at me for the stunt I pulled at the joust!" Elrohir exclaimed. He grabbed his tri-pointed, multicolored, striped hat trimmed with bells, smashed it on his head, and made a beeline for the dressing room door.

"Where are ye going, Laddie? Ye can't go out like that!" Gimli hollered after the Elf. Elrohir, however, was so busy being annoyed with his twin, and his mind so occupied with the myriad of ways he was going to beat Elladan senseless, that he never heard the Dwarf, and forgot the rather large problem he had in his leggings.

Elrohir strode toward the office/trailer, completely oblivious to the stares of the people he passed. Mothers covered their children's eyes with their hands, pulling them out of his path. Young girls, and many older ones, giggled, pointed, and blushed. Young men elbowed each other, snorting and several times a hand reached out from the crowd in an effort to find out if what they were seeing was real.

Pushing open the door of the trailer, he began to shout at his brother. It took a moment for him to realize that Elladan was not in the trailerit was completely empty. He stalked to the back of the trailer to make sure his brother was not there, but spun around on his heel when he heard the door to the trailer open and slam shut and lock.

"Oh, crap," he muttered, seeing who had just entered.

It wasn't Elladan who stood there staring at his crotch. It was Losin' Susan, and she had the most evil look on her face. He brushed past her tugging at the door, only to find it locked from the outside.

Elladan stood with Legolas and Haldir just outside the trailer. Together they watched the trailer rock on its wheels, and listened to the screams coming from within.

Elrohir was the one screaming.

"He's going to be really, really pissed at you, 'Dan," Haldir commented, wincing as a particularly shrill scream ripped through the air.

"I know, I knowbut he deserved it after that stunt with the joust."

"You still won the joust, Elladanthere is no way he's going to win in _there_!" Legolas pointed out. The trailer rocked madly, threatening to fall over in the dirt.

"He'll get the upper handhe always does," Elladan explained calmly. "Just watch"

They watched the trailer suddenly become still and silent.

"She's killed him!" Haldir whispered, starting for the door. Elladan's hand stayed him. 'Dan put a finger over his lips, whispering "Nolisten and watch."

The trio continued to stare at the trailer for a few very long moments. Suddenly, the trailer began to rock up and down on its springs in a very, errhythmic fashion. The screams were replaced by moans and groans, and the occasional "OhOH!"

Grinning, Elladan looked at Legolas and Haldir. "I told you he'd get the upper hand"

"Now she won't leave him alone for another two weekshe's still gonna be really pissed, 'Dan," Legolas commented as they turned to walk toward the tent where they would hold the wenching contest.

"Yeah, but it's so worth it," Elladan grinned, hanging a pair of multi-colored, striped jester's leggings over the doorknob of the trailer. The very leggings he has switched on his brother that morning. He just hoped that Elrohir would hurry, or they'd have to delay the start of the wenching contest.


	8. The Wandering Minstrel

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Disclaimer: I do not own LOTR or any of its characters. ** Losin' Susan: **HEY! My agent says that you can't use me in your stories without compensating me! He says that you need to sign a contract thingy and everything **Me: **Umno. You don't have an agent - you can't, because you don't exist. I made you up. **Losin' Susan:** Then who's this guy who keeps telling me he's my agent? **Me:** Grima! Get away from Losin' Susan!

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A/N: Thanks, once again, to everyone for reading and reviewing! The lyrics below are from "Scarborough Fair" which is an English folk song that dates back to medieval times, and was popularized in the sixties by Simon and Garfunkel.

Chapter 8

The Wandering Minstrel

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"Are you going to Scarborough Fair?

Parsley, sage, rosemary, and thyme,

Remember me to one who lives there

She once was a true love of mine"

Glorfindel's clear, sweet tenor voice filled the air, accompanied by the music his fingers made plucking the strings of his mandolin as he strolled about the fairgrounds. His objective was to gather as many young women as he could and lead them to the wenching tent.

Easy enough for the Golden Onethey followed him like chicks after a mother duck. Moon-eyed, drooling, and panting, they followed in his wake, more and more joining as he made his way through the faire. One smile or a wink from him was all it took for the females to drop whatever it was they were doing and cling to him like saran wrap. Most of them, or so he had been told, kept their eyes trained on his butt the entire way to the wenching tent.

His costume for the Wandering Minstrel bit helped, of course. His green jerkin only came down far enough to cover the very essentialsmost of his butt was still exposed, encased in skin tight, bright blue leggings that showed every crack and crevice. His long, muscular legs ended in tall, fringed leather boots, and a jaunty feathered cap sat upon his head, from under which flowed his long, golden hair. It also didn't hurt that Glorfindel was, well_Glorfindel_. His very essence screamed sex, and every female in a 100-yard radius picked up on it, homing in like long range missiles.

But, _Great_ _Eru_, he _hated_ singing this song. Unfortunately, it was the only one left from medieval times that was familiar to most ears. It grated on _his_ nerves. He could never figure out why the guy in the song would think that his friend could _possibly_ run into _anyone_ he knew at the Scarborough Fair, which, as Glorfindel recalled, was a huge, sprawling, 45 day event, with folk coming from all over medieval Europe. Besides that fact, why would _anyone_ want to send a message to a _former_ lover? After all, if she were his _true_ love, wouldn't they still be together? Humans. Go figure.

He was just passing the trailer office, his gaggle of females faithfully following, when the door opened, and someone staggered out. At first Fin thought it was a vagrant, and, Wandering Minstrel or not, was about to bop him on the head with his mandolin. But a closer look made Glorfindel gasp mid-song. It wasn't a vagrantit was Elrohir. Fin had never seen him look this badhe looked as though he just been run over by a semi. His dark, normally silky tresses were a knotted, tangled mess, and his clothes were torn, wrinkled, and in some areas, missing altogether. He had scratches on his arms, and a bruise that was growing purple on his neck. He had a look of shock in his gray eyes, and seemed to be talking to himself.

Fin made a gesture of apology to the women following him, asking them to please excuse him for just a moment - he promised he'd be right back. He handed his mandolin to a young woman standing close by, who accepted it like manna from heaven, and jogged over to the Peredhil twin.

"Ro" Fin asked, taking Elrohir by the shoulders, "Are you okay? What happened?"

"Llloozzinnnzzzuzzznn."

"What? You're not making sense, 'Ro. Look at me, 'Rotake a deep breath and tell me what happened," Fin demanded, forcing Elrohir to look at him.

Elrohir focussed for a moment on Glorfindel's face, took a deep, calming breath, and said, "L-l-losin' S-s-susan!"

"Oh, no - how _she_ get her hands on youyou poor thing. _Elladan_!" Fin asked, knowing immediately that Elrohir's twin brother must have had something to do with this.

Elrohir just nodded mutely, his eyes losing focus once more. Once again, 'Ro began to mutter senselessly. All Glorfindel could make out were the words 'Nana, Ada, and help.'" Fin put his hand on Elrohir's shoulder, steadying him. Looking around, Fin spotted a Faire worker nearby, unloading fresh fruit from crates into a rolling cart. Calling him over, he instructed the man to take Elrohir to the dressing room, and make him as comfortable as possible.

Watching Elrohir walk away, half supported by the worker, mumbling incoherently, Fin's mouth set itself in a grim line. "Elladan's gone too far, this time. Imagine, setting Losin' Susan on his own brother! She nearly tore poor Elrohir to shreds! Elladan just doesn't know his limitshe always takes things one step too far for his own good. I think it's time for someone to teach that Elf a lesson, and I'm just the one to do it!"

He took back his mandolin from the young girl, kissing her hand and thanking her for holding it for him. He turned and led the group of women toward the wenching tent, his mind going a million miles an minute, formulating a plan. As the plan came together in his mind, he smiled a small tight smile, his eyes glittering. He didn't notice that the young girl whose hand he had kissed had fainted dead away in the dirt.

What he also didn't see was the mischievous smile that appeared on Elrohir's face as he allowed the worker to half carry him toward the dressing room. Elrohir had figured out the ultimate revenge planand he wouldn't have to lift a finger himself. Setting Glorfindel on Elladan was going to prove highly entertaining. After all, who knew more ways to fight dirty than the balrog-slayer? And all Elrohir had had to do was muss up his hair and clothes, rip a couple of seams, mutter a few nonsense syllables, and stagger a bit. Losin' Susan was the one who really needed help - she wouldn't be able to walk straight for a week. Then again, he thought, looking at the scratches on his arms, and gingerly touching the enormous hickey she'd left on his throat, she played pretty rough, too.

The worker looked at him askance, noticing his smile. Elrohir immediately began to mumble again, waiting to allow his laughter to escape until he was safely alone in the dressing room.


	9. The Wenching Contest

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Disclaimer: I do not own LOTR, or any of its characters. **Glorfindel:** Ahhso my very essence screams "sex", now does it? **Me:** Yep, it certainly does. **Legolas:** Hey! If his essence screams "sex", then what does mine scream? **Me:** Umyours doesn't exactly scream, Legolas. **Legolas:** What do you mean? My essence screams. It screams really loudly. **Me:** Yesbut it screams like a little girl. **Legolas:** I'm going to hurt you now. **Me:** Eep.

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A/N: Thanks to everyone who keeps reading and reviewing! You've helped get me through a very trying month! Happy November, everyone!

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Chapter 9

The Wenching Tent

Elladan stood in the corner of the wenching tent, smugly watching the crowd filter in, taking their seats on the bleachers that circled the canvas structure.

The wenching contest was, by far, his absolute _favorite_ part of the Faire. After the joust, it was also the most popular with the Faire-goers, as well. At least, with the _male_ Faire-goers. His Elven ears picked up Glorfindel's singing, telling him that the show was about to begin. He straightened his tunic, a crooked smile on his handsome face, as he prepared to meet the contestants that Glorfindel would be presenting to him.

The rules of the wenching contest were simpleeach girl who wished to participate was dressed in a "wench's" costume - a full skirt - short enough to show a lot of leg - and a very low cut peasant blouse. Elladan, serving as the "Lord" would sit on a chair in the center of the tent, and the girls would vie for his attention by any means possible, short of disrobing or touching themselves or the Lord. Privately, Elladan wished that they could get rid of that last rule. Grinning to himself, he thought of the times in the past when the contestants had turned the event into a huge catfight, complete with pulling hair, and dumping pitchers of water on each other. Yes, this was _definitely_ his favorite part of the Faire.

Glorfindel, as the Minstrel, was also responsible for seeing that the girls got into costume, and explaining the rules to them beforehand. He would then lead them into the wenching tent, and present them to the "Lord." Turning his head toward the flap of the tent that led in from the dressing area, Elladan's mouth curved into a large, lascivious grin.

Glorfindel entered the tent first, and came to stand before Elladan. Bowing theatrically, he said In a loud voice so that the entire tent would be able to hear, "My Lord, it is my utmost pleasure to be allowed to present to you the contestants who wish to vie for a place on your household staff. They are truly a sight to behold, My Lord. Each contestant will attempt to win and hold your favor. You will choose your favorite to be hailed as the Wench of the Day. Might I be permitted to present to youThe Wenches!" Glorfindel moved to stand behind Elladan, a firm hand on the Peredhil's shoulder, pinning him to his chair. Elladan frowned a moment, because Glorfindel was supposed to leave the center of the tent once he introduced the wenches.

The flap of canvas that led to the dressing room was lifted and the crowd in the tent went wild as the 'wenches' filed into the open space, heading toward Elladan. Elladan gaped, then tried to stand, but Glorfindel's iron fingers kept him rooted to his seat.

The 'wenches' were, indeed, dressed in short, full skirts, and low cut peasant blouses, bright red lipstick and an over-abundance of blue eyeshadow and blush. They were also bearded, hairy, and very, very large men.

Glorfindel kept a tight rein on his smile, which threatened to crack into a wide grin as he felt Elladan's shoulders tighten under his fingers.

The crowd roared as the "wenches" crowded around Elladan, curtseying with varying degrees of success, and blowing kisses at the red-faced "Lord." One burly man sat on Elladan's lap, running his fingers through 'Dan's hair. Another pulled him off, attempting to take his place. Two others began pulling at Elladan's boots, trying to remove them, as Elladan kicked fiercely, trying to stop them.

One man, dressed in a multi-colored skirt and white peasant blouse, grabbed a bunch of grapes from a bowl set off to the side of the tent and was trying to force feed Elladan the fruit. Elladan, for his part, kept his mouth firmly shut, twisting his head from side to side, trying to escape the man's thick fingers.

The "wenches" who had been pulling at Elladan's feet managed to remove his boots, and were now trying to massage his feet. A difficult task, since Elladan most definitely did not want his feet touched by the two furry men, and was kicking out with all his might.

One extra large "wench" whose beer belly flopped out over the waistband of his skirt beneath the knotted bottom of his peasant blouse, cheerfully grabbed the man who was currently sitting on Elladan's lap by the scruff of the neck and threw him across the sand floor of the tent. He plopped himself on Elladan's lap, causing Elladan's eyes to cross. A high pitched, strangled noise rose in Elladan's throat as he felt his "little lordship' squashed in the process. His mouth opened to scream, but before he could emit so much as a squeak, it was immediately stuffed full of grapes.

Two of the beefy "wenches" decided that dancing would be the way to get Elladan's attention, although unbeknownst to them his attention was still riveted on the pain in his groin. They began to bump and grind on either side of his chair, eliciting more laughter and catcalls from the audience.

For his part, Glorfindel thought he might actually bust a gut from holding in his laughter. Standing poker-faced behind Elladan, still holding the twin in an iron grip to prevent his escape, he thought that this had to be one of the funniest sights he had seen in eons. Elladan was sure to have nightmares about this for quite sometime. Glancing off to the side, Fin spotted Elrohir peeking into the tent. Fin's eyebrows shot up and the laughter died in his throat when he noticed that Losin' Susan was standing just behind 'Ro, with her hand on his shoulder. They were both grinning madly at the sight of Elladan being assaulted by the hirsute "wenches." It took a moment before Glorfindel put two and two together, and realized he'd been set up.

Elrohir cringed as Glorfindel shot him a look that he hadn't seen on the balrog-slayer's face in more centuries than he cared to count. Fin was pissed. _Really_ pissed, and 'Ro suddenly questioned the wisdom of involving Glorfindel in his little plan to get even with 'Dan. He backed out of the tent determined to find someplace to hide where he wouldn't be found until the next millennium.

Pulling himself up to his full height, Glorfindel began pulling the "wenches" off of Elladan, who, released from their attentions, rolled off of the chair onto the floor. Sternly, 'Fin lined the contestants up, and then picked Elladan up by the collar of his tunic, standing him upright.

"Which wench does his Lordship choose?" Glorfindel asked Elladan, whose eyes were still crossed, and was holding both hands over his privates.

"Eep," was all that Elladan could manage to squeak out, having lost the ability to manage intelligent speech right around the same time the 250-pound man had jumped onto his lap.

"So it is decided! The winner of the Wenching Contest isyou!" Fin shouted, pointing randomly to the man standing closest to him in line.

The man gripped both hands above his head in victory, strutting around the tent to the applause and whistles of the audience. Fin waved his hand at the crowd, and steered Elladan toward the backstage area.

Elladan's only thought, aside from wondering if his Elfhood would _ever_ recover, was that the Wenching Contest was his _least_ favorite part of the Faire.


End file.
